


Almost

by Swordlesbiab



Series: </3 [2]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and I love all of you, heavy on the comfort, i just figured we're all hurting enough, so here's a fix-it, the boys are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordlesbiab/pseuds/Swordlesbiab
Summary: Did it really need to end that way?(This is a companion piece to Shatter, and it won't make sense alone.)
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Series: </3 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681498
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Please read this note, I just want to explain how this fic fits with the last one. It's not quite a sequel, Shatter is still very much a standalone, and the ambiguous/implied ending that I'm contradicting here is not being overwritten. I just figured, that since everything kind of sucks right now, I might change up the ending a bit. I think we've all had enough angst for one March. Thanks to everyone who commented recently, you were all what inspired me to write this!! Enjoy!!

Owen’s hands came up to hold Curt’s head where it lay against his chest.

And he heard a warning shouted from behind him.

And the static faded out to silence at the feel of Owen’s hand carding through his hair, not exactly as he remembered, but close. Close enough. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Curt Mega.” Owen murmured, wiping Curt’s tears away with one calloused thumb. 

The scars around his neck and hands, real and phantom pains dredged up by his lover’s reappearance still ached, deep to Curt’s core. Owen had those scars too, he knew. New scars, ones Curt hadn’t gotten the chance to memorize, hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss, through stitches and bandages, late at night as they both lay healing. Neither of them were ever going to be exactly the same as he remembered. 

Which is not to say that they had been whole before. Of course they hadn’t been, how could they have? But the blow to the very core of him that Owen’s death, well, “death”, had struck - Curt had never been broken like that before, and he hoped that he never would again. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that Tatiana and Susan were still watching this scene, the wreck of him being cradled close in Owen’s arms, but as Curt felt his partner’s lips pressing soft against his head, his body solid against him as Owen rocked him back and forth, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“This is nice.” He whispered, finally, tilting his head up to meet Owen’s eyes. The not-right steel that had filled them before was melted away, and Curt let himself be lost in the glow. 

“I suppose it is.” Owen responded. He still seemed uncomfortable, still unsure, but that was alright. Four years of hating someone wasn’t something he could get over just like that, and as much as Curt hated it, he understood. 

“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear this yet, but I love you.” He murmured. Owen’s eyes shuttered for just a moment, and Curt missed the warmth immediately. 

“Curt, you know I can’t-” Owen started.

“No, no I know. You don’t have to say it back. Just needed you to know.” He noted, vaguely, Tatiana ushering Susan out of the room. Her instincts were perfect, as always.

“I know. I knew, even when I didn’t want to. It was easier to blame you for being reckless, at first, than to admit the problem was bigger than either of us. And in time I suppose I got so used to it, to using that hatred to numb the pain of being left for dead, that I carried it over. Made you the face of the institutions I hated. But I knew. I knew.” Owen let out a deep sigh as he finished, nearly a gasp. Curt tightened his arms around him, the reminder that Owen still believed he’d been abandoned squeezing at his throat. There would be time to fix that later. Curt  _ would  _ fix that later.

“Good.” He responded, for now.

They stood there in silence a few moments more, just holding each other, breathing in sync like a promise too long broken: I’m here, I’m here, in every breath that kissed his cheek. 

Owen pulled away first.

“So what now?” He asked.

“What do you mean, what now? You’re alive, what more is there? We’re back!” 

“You can’t honestly be suggesting things go back to how they were, Curt. Even if I were keen on returning to MI6, I doubt they’d have me. Several hundred counts of murder isn’t quite the embellishment one wants on one’s track record.” Owen snarked. He was right, of course, but Curt couldn’t quite give up just yet.

“CIA? Cynthia would have you in a heartbeat.” He suggested halfheartedly.

“I see you’re ignoring the part where I said I’m not interested.”

“It would make this easier.” 

“It would,” Owen admitted, “but I’d be miserable. Knowing what I know now? All the mind tricks in the world wouldn’t clear my conscience.”

Curt took a step back and laughed. “Concerned about your conscience, Owen? From what I’ve read, that hasn’t been much of a priority for you for a long ass time.” It was unkind, and Curt knew it as he said it, but he didn’t care.

“From what you’ve read, certainly. But from what you haven’t, I’m afraid you have no grounds to criticize.” Owen shot back.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that there’s plenty that your handlers keep from you, and even more that their handlers keep from them. You only get what you need; and all the nasty little details that might take your pretty head out of the game get tucked away in the dark corners of the institute.” Owen snapped. “I’ve read it, Curt. Since I’ve been with Chimera, I’ve read it all. It made my stomach churn.” 

Curt was silent at that, stunned. The pains from Owen’s torture made themselves known again, as though to remind him exactly how much horror they were both immune to, exactly how horrible something would have to be to make Owen sick. Owen smirked, like he knew he’d won. He probably did, the bastard.

“So I can’t go back, Curt.” He closed. “I’ll gladly go back to you, and I’ll cut ties with Chimera if you want it, but I’m never going to be a spy again.”

Curt nodded. He nodded for much longer than he thought a nod should go on for.

Owen paused, then asked again. “So what now?”

“Now I resign from the CIA.” Curt hadn’t known the words were there until he said them, but they felt right in his mouth all the same. Owen’s eyes widened.

“I tell Cynthia that I was wrong, and I wasn’t ready to be back.” He continued. “With the mess I’ve made of this mission, I’m sure she won’t have any objections. And then...and then we figure it out. You and me.” Curt declared, with confidence he didn’t feel. He held his breath as Owen considered it.

“You and me.” Owen echoed, quietly.

“Yeah. Partners.” And then, softly. “Right?”

Owen nodded slowly. “Partners.”

Curt threw himself back into Owen’s arms, this time open and waiting. He felt like he could cry again, but also like he’d done enough of that already.

“I love you.” He whispered into the crook of Owen’s neck.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you.” Owen murmured back, arms tight around Curt's waist. And it wasn’t the same, not by half, but for now, at least, it was close enough.

**Author's Note:**

> As always I'm on tumblr at theguywhodidntlikeblogs. I see your kudos n comments, and I love each and every one of them. Thank you all for reading, stay inside and stay safe <3


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